The Next Move
by AnOxymoron
Summary: Nancy has lost Ned - and therefore, lost everything. When Bess reintroduces Nancy to an old crush who was previously prevented from making a move only by Nancy's relationship with Ned, can she find it in her heart to give this love a second chance? N
1. Move Set in Motion

Disclaimer: DODS

_**Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. **_

_**R&R, P&TY**_

_**For the purposes of the story, I created a character – Carson Drew's sister and Nancy's Aunt, Sallie Martinez. **_

_**Also, Frank is a bachelor. **_

_I am flying through the air, screaming at the top of my lungs, free and joyful. When I come back down to earth, I bounce right back up, turn around to see Ned's face, and laugh lightly, reaching out my arms. "Ned!" I call excitedly. "You came back!"_

"_Hi, Nance," he says, but his voice speaks from thousands and thousands of miles away, and he starts fading, dissolving into the air right before my eyes. _

"_NED!" I scream. "Come back again! Come back!" but he was gone. _

After Ned's death, every single night I had at least one disturbing nightmare. They were all basically the same – I saw Ned again, called out to him, heard his sweet voice one more time, and then he was gone again; and I was sent back to the real world. Sometimes the dream was set just in white, senseless space, sometimes I was in his bedroom, sometimes we were standing in front of the Rock River – but most of the time, it was on the trampoline in my backyard, where we had bounced so many times.

I could take comfort in the fact that he had gone peacefully, but every minute of the day when I was not distracted, I ached to think that I had not gotten to say goodbye face-to-face. Seeing his tortured and whitened face against the blandness of the hospital bed on his last day had been the worst moment of my life. Even though I was only eighteen, I felt like a lifetime of adversity had embedded itself into my soul, aging me so that I was withered and numb.

I spent the first few days afterwards beneath my covers, refusing to speak. I drank what water and ate what food that Hannah brought me, but besides that, I did not interact with my surroundings. That feeling of hollowness and tragedy was inescapable, and so I withdrew – not escaping, but hiding.

After about a month, I managed to completely return to normal life. I was attending NIU, with my own off-campus apartment, and regularly visiting – and being visited by – the Miracle Worker Cousins, Bess Marvin and George Fayne, who somehow managed to support me through my period of mourning. They stood with me at the funeral, escorted me home, and comforted me while I sobbed endlessly in the aftermath.

On most weekends, I returned to the River Heights home I had grown up in, with Hannah and Dad, to savor the silence and reflect on childhood memories. These hours spent at home were my saving grace; they allowed me to go back to when I was more innocent, and free from the burden of fate's wrath. To go back to my childhood was a great thing – a bit of a rinse, really.

My Aunt Sallie, who was actually quite young and whom I held in greatest confidence, was also a large factor in my survival. At least every other week, she would call, email or text me asking me how I was and if I needed anything. More than once, my reply was abundant with requests, all of which she generously and quickly fulfilled. Uncle Carlos, her husband, was also a good person, but I was never very close to him, possibly because we weren't blood-related, and he was a very busy and slightly aloof man.

It had been nearly a year since I'd lost Ned to the power of the plug, and many wonderful people had worked to help me overcome the obstacles that accompanied heartbreak. But with everyday the pain had still grown stronger and more excruciating. My father had attempted several times to persuade me to see a psychiatrist or some kind of help, but I refused. The pain of mourning is natural; therefore must pass naturally to really pass. In order to convince him of this truth, I pretended to 'feel the beginning of such natural passage', which had led to me returning to my schooling and regular schedule. Despite my farce, though, I had still not even _begun _to recover from my post-traumatic shock. It was difficult to fake mental stability in such a situation, but anything was better than spilling my thoughts to some overrated quack (aka a shrink). And so, I put up my façade at home and around my friends, but when I was alone in my apartment, I cried every single moment.

I was halfway through one such session of total devastation when the phone in my bedroom rang. I crawled over to it, wiped my face on my sleeve, and answered. "Nancy here," I mumbled. I had just had a particularly traumatizing nightmare; I hadn't been having the nightmares in a while, and this shockingly sudden and vivid relapse was entirely unwelcome. I heard my voice coming out slurred and sickly and revealing that I was in a lot of distress, and immediately tried to pitch a more normal tone. If Bess suspected that something was wrong, she would become annoyingly inquisitive, and I didn't feel like having a mental session right then.

"Hey, Nan," Bess's warm and loving voice greeted me. "How're you?"

Bess was in a community college. She was now, more than ever, focusing on her lifelong dream of owning a small fabrics shop and mainly being a housewife; she was obviously not aiming for any high education. George, on the other hand, was at a widely acclaimed athletically-oriented university in Springfield, but managed to make it back down to River Heights often to visit us.

"Hi, Bess," I said, and was relieved to find that now, my voice sounded as close to normal as it could. Also, it was altered over the phone line to sound even better. "I'm doing well, what about you?"

"Yeah, I'm cool." Bess paused. "So, I met a guy."

I sighed exasperatedly. Bess Marvin was always meeting guys (it was her specialty) – at bars, at the mall, at restaurants, everywhere she went, she met a guy, and every time she 'fell madly in love', called me and George to gush, and then the next day decided that she was already bored of her 'future husband'. She was currently living with two other girls who were attending the same community college as Bess in River Heights – Tish, an old classmate from high school, and someone named Ashley Banks – but she was constantly talking about how she wanted to move in with a serious boyfriend, get married, and fill their mansion with lively children.

"What kind of guy?" I asked. It was an unnecessary question. Whether or not I expressed desire to hear about Bess's guy, Bess would tell all.

"Well, he's very handsome. He seems very motivated. He's sort of dark-haired, he has a mysterious vibe… and he feels very familiar," Bess said, stressing the last word.

"Oh, really," I said without feeling. "Is he available?"

"Quite available," Bess said lightly, with a hint of a laugh in her voice. "Are you interested?"

It took me a second to comprehend what Bess was suggesting. Bess's guy was not for Bess. Bess's guy was for _me_.

"Oh, no, no way, Bess – very clever, but no way… I mean, you know that I'm not ready," I protested.

"Just agree to meet him. I think you might make an exception… for this particular guy," Bess pled.

"No guys, Bess. Every man I look at looks like…"

"Ned?" Bess finished plainly. "Still, you should get back into the sea, Nancy. Or at least dip your toes in the water and test the temperature. Just check it out. Please?"  
"Bess, I can't." I felt a sob catch in my throat.

"Nance, you've been telling us for _ages _that you're fine and ready to go back to normal without Ned," Bess chastised. "If you really are, then why can't you do this?"

I groaned. Bess had caught me. If I admitted that I wasn't over Ned – at all – then I would get carted off to a shrink's office, or maybe even the psych ward. But if I kept up my lie, I had to meet Bess's guy, who was a probable loser that wasn't looking to deal with a basket case like me. While I searched through loopholes in this predicament, Bess started ranting about the guy's natural charm, and blah, blah, blah. It bored the heck out of me, and when I had determined that there was no way to escape, I simply interrupted her sales pitch. "OK, girly, here's the deal. I'll meet this dude once. I'm not guaranteeing anything – in fact I'm warning you right here, right now that nothing is going to come out of this. But I'll go anyway, just to please you. And after this – no more matchmaking, no more suggestions; you know that I can't handle a lot right now even if I am recovering. Deal?"

"Deal," Bess sighed dejectedly. "I told him to be waiting at five o'clock this afternoon at the Tea n' Coffee Shop on Campus Blvd."

"I have class at five," I countered.

"Nancy," Bess answered with a hint of condescension. "It's Sunday."

And so, the date was set.

_**There you go, chapter number one. Tell me if it's any good, I'm not so sure!**_

_**Thanks in advance for feedback.**_

_**Feel free to ask any questions or give any suggestions, I don't get offended very easily. **_


	2. Move is Failure

Disclaimer: Who knew

_**Disclaimer: Who knew? For some strange reason, I don't own Nancy Drew. Stranger things…**_

_**Here's Chapter 2. **_

As my blind date approached, I kept coming up with reasons not to go. I must've called Bess at least five times sporting lame excuses. My back hurt, my herbal tea had scalded my tongue, I had a big homework assignment to finish – and so on. She disregarded each call without even hearing my case. And so, as the clock struck fifteen till, I grabbed my sunglasses and a purse and headed out. I didn't even bother changing out of my sweats or putting on makeup - I didn't even wash my face of the tear stains! Hopefully, I would project such an unattractive and unkempt image that I'd scare the guy off before we even ordered our drinks.

It was a short walk to the Tea n' Coffee Shop, ten minutes at the most, and as I strolled, I called Bess one last time. I had forgotten to ask her the typical blind date info – name, age, occupation, etc. "Who exactly is this guy?" I inquired sharply the minute her voice answered. 

"You'll just have to find out,'' she teased maddeningly. "When you get there, he'll introduce himself."

I blew out air in exasperation, shoving hair from my face. "Bess, unless you want me to back out, give me the guy's name." 

"I'm really sorry, Nan, I can't. You'll just have to find out," she repeated. 

"BESS!" my voice was shockingly loud and shrill, and several passing walkers glanced at me with a mixture of annoyance and pity. I mouthed an apology to those who were disturbed and then lowered my tone. "Bess, if you don't tell me, I'm turning around and going back to my apartment this second. I've got better things to do then waste my time on a worthless jerk."

"Worthless jerk?" Bess echoed. "Are all guys worthless jerks, Nancy? Because if that's what you think, then you're being a hypocrite – you're cutting your life off because you can't get over a certain 'worthless jerk'!" 

"Ned was one of a kind," I sniffed. "And even _he _broke my heart. That's all guys do – break your heart. So before I go meet another stupid heartbreaker, I think I at least deserve the courtesy of knowing his name." 

Bess scoffed at my theory. "They only break your heart if you let them, Nancy. That's your problem – taking the reins, letting them know that they don't have as much power over you as they'd obviously like to. But that's irrelevant. Just go at least see the poor stiff, and then figure things out. I gotta go. Catch ya later." And then she was gone. I tried calling again, but her phone had been turned off. 

I turned the last corner and headed into the Shop. It smelled strongly of cinnamon and spice, and as usual, a bunch of baristas were milling around, taking orders and delivering steaming cups of hot beverages, thick and creamy frappucinos, or jittery iced coffees to their customers. On the back of their mosaic uniform shirts, the baristas had their Zodiac Herb printed along with a description of the herb and its holders. The Herb Zodiac was a new fad, something about matching your date of birth to an herb, which determined your personality and preferred palette. I thought it was a bunch of hocus-pocus, but it actually seemed to be catching on quite well.

Because it was a Sunday afternoon, the Shop was packed, and it was therefore impossible to see any possible blind dates. I wove my way in and out through the tables, searching the crowd for a guy sitting alone looking like he was expecting someone. I could find no one.

I tried to call Bess one last time, but once again, her phone was off. I was about to turn and go back home, forgetting the whole ordeal, when I felt a warm, solid hand resting on my shoulder. I spun around, took one look at the person standing behind me, and burst out laughing. 

I'm talking hysterical laughter. When Nancy Drew laughs, she laughs, snorts, holds her belly, caws, cries, grabs people around her for support, and may even roll around on the floor. My bout of laughter obviously shocked him, and he watched me with a little bewilderment, clearly wondering if I was going crazy. 

It was because I recognized that man. It was Ian Riggs, a classmate from high school – and I couldn't believe that Bess had set me up with _him!_

The story of Ian and I was fairly hilarious. At the beginning of my freshman year, we had met each other and for some reason been convinced that it was love at first sight. He _was _a pretty romantic boyfriend. He took me out a lot, bought me flowers, sent me regular gifts, and when he was around me, he was extremely protective; very caring. Back then, I was friends with a girl named Marty Andrews. She was a sophomore, so we weren't in the same classes or anything, but we did go to the same high school, and she lived in a house not far from mine, so we often met up at school and hung out after hours. When I introduced her to Ian, she encouraged me, saying that he was a nifty catch and seemed very loyal and trustworthy. Because Marty was very picky about guys, I took her approval as a very good omen, and became completely besotted.

Hannah and Father were a little worried about how completely I threw myself at Ian. When they discovered a booklet of all the sappy love notes he'd ever sent me underneath my pillow, Hannah tried to have a conversation about me concerning my youth, and how I should reserve myself and not age myself prematurely. I, of course, didn't listen to a word of it. I got so ticked off at Hannah and them; I ran away to Ian's house and sobbed into his arms for an half an hour. When I was finished, after he'd comforted me for a little while, I kissed his cheek and told him that he was the best boyfriend ever – to which he replied, "Thanks, Nance. You're the best friend I've ever had – boys or girls!"

I, of course, was devastated at the discovery that my supposed future husband only regarded me as a friend. I found out that he wrote love notes to all his friends – to him, that was a mark of good friendship, not relationship. He even wrote such love notes to his sister! Ian was just a slightly weird kid with way too much romantic passion in his soul.

I told Marty about it, and she was rightly furious for me. She marched right over to Ian Riggs' house and beat the crap out of him. Ian lay crying on his front porch for much longer than I'd been crying in his arms. Still, thinking about the look on his face and his pathetic stance was highly comical to me. 

When I was done, I wiped my eyes and apologized. "So, Ian," I said, after saying "sorry" a couple of times. "Are you my mysterious date?"

He looked embarrassed. He probably knew what I was laughing about. Seeing him blush made me feel a little sorry about the way I'd just mocked him, and I sat down at a small table and patted the seat across from me. "Go ahead, sit."

He sat, clearly very self-conscious. 

"I'm sorry about that, Ian, I have no clue what came over me. You're looking good," I added; an offhand compliment to boost his ego back up to full potential. 

"Thanks. You look fantastic," he said appreciatively. Same ol', same ol' – he always was a flattering charmer.

"Thanks very much." I smoothed my pants. "Let's order drinks."

We flagged a barista. I had a frappucino and he had a plain black coffee. That surprised me; Ian was always a little bit of a sissy; a mama's boy, I would never expect him to be able to stomach a drink a strong as plain coffee. He saw the surprise in my face and explained.

"My sophomore year, I had a big impromptu exam. I drank so much coffee to keep awake while cramming that I sort of developed immunity to it. Now the only coffee that has any taste is black." 

I nodded. "That's nice. So how are you?"

And so began a fairly long catching-up conversation. Around six-thirty, I checked my watch and realized how time had escaped us. I'd finished my frappucino, and he'd already had his second cup of coffee. He was just finishing an anecdote about the Junior Prom, and so I graciously excused myself. On the way back, I called Bess. This time, she picked up on first ring; she'd probably been anxiously waiting by her phone to get the 411 immediately.

"So?" she chirped excitedly.  
"Ian Riggs?!" I exclaimed. "I mean, he's a nice guy and all, but you do realize that I commissioned a sophomore girl to beat him up in his own home? It was so awkward to face him again!" 

"Ian Riggs," Bess repeated dubiously. "I did _not _set you up with Ian Riggs!" 

_**Ooh… cliffhanger. Tell me how you liked it.**_

_**You'll see who the date was REALLY supposed to be with in the next chapter, so don't worry!**_

_**Much **_

_**AnOxymoron **_

_**p.s. I will try to update ASAP. Unless you'd rather I not…**_


	3. Restarting Move

_**Disclaimer: If I owned Nancy Drew, do you think that I would be writing Fanfictions? That's what I thought. **_

_**Thank you everyone for the reviews! I appreciate all your responses.**_

_**Keep 'em coming please! Thx. : P **_

"Excuse me?" I sank onto a nearby municipal bench, caught between shock and amusement.

"I can't believe this." Bess's voice swirled with anger. "That little skunk!"

"I was just stood up on a _blind _date." I couldn't hide my disbelief. I'll admit I'm not the prettiest girl, but that was just plain humiliating. Who got stood up on a blind date??

"I'm sorry, Nan, I have no idea what happened. But this guy… he's so decent… something must've come up, something unavoidable. I'll call him later."

"No, why don't I call him for you and chew him out?" I demanded. "Bess, you have to admit, after what he just did to me, I deserve to know his name, his phone number – _where he sleeps…" _

"I'm not letting you charge after him with an axe, Nance. It'd be a great loss to the world – and to you, especially – if this guy kicked the bucket. He's your perfect match. And when you actually get to meet him, then I'm sure you'll agree."

"He just forced me to spend ninety minutes talking to Ian Riggs! I thought I was never going to see that guy again! I never _wanted _to see that guy again!" I pouted. "Bessie, look what a situation you've put me in. What kind of a friend are you?"

"I said I was sorry," Bess answered without remorse. "I'm really doing you a favor, I promise, Nancy. I just have to work it out right. I have no idea what happened to your real date, but I'm sure I can figure it out and make sure that his apology reaches you. OK?"

"He's probably such an arrogant jerk that he won't have an apology to give." I huffed.

"Don't be a crybaby, Nan." From her tone, I could tell that Bess was rolling her eyes. "I need to go do damage control, okay? Let me call this guy, and I'll call you back in a few."

"But, Bess-" once again ignoring my protest, Bess hung up. I didn't even attempt to recall.

As I restarted my dejected travels home, I started wondering about Ian. Clearly, he had had no prior information that he'd be having 'tea' with me. So why hadn't he objected when I forced myself upon him? I pondered this, drifting between assuming that he was taking advantage of my oblivion and thinking that I was so adamant he decided it was safer to just please a madwoman. Had he even really remembered me at all? Probably he had, because the conversation we held reflected several times on our experiences together in high school.

At home, I tried calling Bess, to no avail. After a quick shower and a dead-end contemplation of a nap (I tried to lie down, but wasn't sleepy at all), I decided to call Aunt Sallie. Good ol' reliable Aunt Sallie. She picked up on the first ring.

"Hey, it's my favorite niece!" a warm sense of relief flooded me as I heard her welcoming, kindly voice.

"Hi, Aunt Sallie," I greeted. "You'll never guess what happened to me!"

"Tell all," she urged. I gave a nice little summary of the drama, pausing so she could laugh at the correct moments and gasp at others. When I was finished, she slandered Ian for being dishonest and for taking advantage of me, and then assured me that everything was fine. However, to my disdain, she encouraged me to give Bess a second chance – "This real fellow she's got you set up with, why don't you give him a shot? I know you're devastated, Nance, but I think you ought to be fair to Bess. It's not like she knew that you'd actually have an awkward get-together with an ex-boyfriend whose beating you organized. Be nice. You can find it in your soul, can't you? I know that's hard, but…"

"Ha, ha, very funny," I replied dryly. "I already gave Bess her chance. If she hadn't been so stubborn and given me some info on the stupid guy, I wouldn't have been in such a predicament. So in truth, it is her fault."

"She was just trying to give it an element of surprise and drama. C'mon, you know your girl Bess. That's the way she does things," Sallie wheedled.

"Why are you on her side?" I accused. "Are you cheating on me with another niece?"

"Yes, that's _exactly _what's going on," Aunt Sallie replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "But seriously, Nancy – do it for you, if no one else. Or…" she seemed to think better of what she was preparing to say, but I was pretty sure that I had a good idea of her gist.

"Do it for Ned?" I asked quietly.

"I didn't know if it was the right thing to say, but that's what I really think of this," she murmured.

"You think Ned would be happy that I'm an infidel?" I cried. I knew I shouldn't be angry with her – she was only trying to help and be honest – but the suggestion that I would do anything that wasn't for the good of Ned's soul was highly offending. The whole reason _why _I couldn't see anyone else was for Ned. How would it benefit him to move on? To forget about him, and start a new life without him?! I owed it to Neddy, who had been so faithful and loving to me, to remember him as my one true love, and to never replace him.

"He's dead, Nancy," said Aunt Sallie bluntly. "Dead and gone, gone far away, and he's not coming back, and he won't know if you get engaged to someone else or not! And we're not even talking about engagement; we're just talking about testing the waters, having a couple practice dates to get back in the groove! It's been a year, and you still haven't come out of this ridiculously impenetrable shell. We're all trying to help you, but you're as stubborn as a mule. Are you proposing to never have children? To die an old maid, with nothing but memories of a man she lost when she was just a child? You're only eighteen! You're so young! How can you tell that you wouldn't have eventually broken up with Ned for someone else anyway? Things would be different if you lost him towards the end of your life. But you're nowhere near the end! You're still at the very beginning, but you act like everything is coming to a close, like you have no more time to take more chances, meet new people, see new things, and start fresh! You always devote yourself too much; maybe you're just an exceedingly passionate person, and that's fine, but the passion needs to stop somewhere and become pragmatism!"

"I am pragmatic!" I retorted hotly. "How can you say that I'm not? Everyone says I'm very pragmatic – the epitome of practicality! But I had a love for Ned, and that love is now my cage, and I can't escape it because it's right here, always, reminding me that every man I look at is only half the man that Ned was. How can anyone attract me or impress me when I knew and loved the finest person in the world? Everyone looks dingy and stupid and unworthy compared to-"

"Then don't compare them!" Sallie interjected. "Just don't compare anyone to anyone. Each guy is his own person, with his own flaws, and his own talents! Saying that Ned was so good that no other man can be good, is like saying the richest man in the world is the only rich man in the world when in fact there are plenty of rich people! Just because one person has a lot of something, doesn't mean that no one else has it too! It just means that they have less, but that's okay, because they still have it in their soul! Ned was a very nice and kind young man – but you'll find plenty of other nice and kind young men in the world! Give it a shot! And if you don't, pretty soon you'll find yourself abandoned and drowning in regrets and memories while everyone else flourishes because they learned to love, and to recover, and to appreciate an individual as an individual!"

I was struck speechless by the fiery commitment in her speech. When she was done, we sat in uncomfortable silence as I thought about her words, and she thought about mine.

My phone buzzed in my hand, and when I looked at the screen, I saw that Bess was calling me back. "I have to talk to you later, Aunt Sallie," I said tonelessly, and switched lines.

"Hi, Bess," I said, trying to keep steady even though I felt like I was on the verge of breaking down again.

"Hey, Nance," Bess said breathlessly. "Okay, catch this – the guy that I was setting you up with, he got in a car accident with – you'll never guess – _his brother!" _she squealed in delight, clearly reveling in the irony.

"Is he okay?" I asked. I was ticked about being stood up, but I felt bad for anyone involved in a possibly-injurious situation.

"Oh, they're both fine. But when I called him, he was a little frazzled, and kept apologizing. His exact words:

"Tell Nancy that I had no desire to miss our date, and I was really excited for it, and I hope she doesn't hold this against me. I would love to meet up with her again for real this time.""

"What a charmer." I heard the cutting edge in my voice, and apparently so did Bess, because she seemed at a loss for words. Remembering Aunt Sallie's accusations, I tried to soften up. "But, if the kid really wants to make it work out, I could give him another shot. Just make sure he takes a bicycle or walks this time, with no hazard of accident."

"Of course," Bess said, clearly grateful that I was at least submitting myself to another shot. "I promise nothing will go wrong. And to make good on that promise, I will escort your mystery man personally to your next date."

"Great." I leaned back against my chair with a sigh. I had no idea why I was punishing myself like this, but at least Bess was happy – and Aunt Sallie would be too, when she found out. "So when exactly is our next date?" I asked as an afterthought. I crossed my fingers and hoped that she would say something along the lines of, 'the next millennium.'

"Well, he was saying something about Wednesday."

"I have classes on Wednesday." This seemed like my constant refrain when it came to escaping dates.

"Not after six o'clock."

"How can you know that?"  
"Um, hello! You emailed me your weekly schedule AGES ago. So, around seven o'clock, we're going to pick you up for a romantic Italian dinner at Reggiano's. I'm just going to play the role of chauffeur, so I'll wait in the parking lot while you two lovebirds romance. Sound good? I knew it would."

Clearly, my opinion had stopped counting long ago, so I didn't even waste the energy complaining. "Wednesday, seven o'clock," I muttered, scribbling the date down on my planner calendar.

"Is there any chance of me finding more out about Mr. Dreamy before I meet him?" I asked, without any hope.

"Of course not," Bess replied with savage pleasure. "For once, Nancy has to step down and let someone else control things."

"Hmpf." I went back to sulking.

"C'mon, don't be a spoilsport. It's all for your own good, and on your wedding day, you'll be thanking me."

"Oh, please. The guy will be lucky to get a second date, much less a wedding," I answered sassily. If I couldn't actual take the reins, at least I could give attitude about my lack of power.

"You'll change your mind when you see him. He's gorrgeous," Bess purred.

"So why aren't you chasing after him?"

"He's not into me at all. But you – he's completely into you."

"He doesn't even know me," I laughed. One sometimes had to be amused at Bess's whimsical perception of romance.

"He knows you, don't worry. Pictures speak a million – or is it a thousand? Well, however that saying goes – words. And those million or thousand words were your introduction."

"You make no sense." I sighed, rubbing my aching head.

"Exactly, that's how I make sure that you have no idea what you're going into. Now, please excuse me. I have phone calls to make; people to talk too… and Tish totally flooded the bathtub, which means that Mr. Boxers-Out, aka our plumber guy, needs to come over and check things out. Do you see how I spend my days? Wasted on fixing other peoples' mistakes! It's a sad life." With an overdramatic sigh, she hung up.

Despite myself, I spent the rest of the day walking around with a big smile on my face. For some reason, I was irrepressibly giddy. Maybe it was just the opportunity to come out of myself, or simply lingering amusement at Bess's antics. One way or the other, the smile didn't fade until around bedtime, when I popped a call in to my house to say good night to Hannah and Dad.

After a couple rings, my father's voice came through the receiver.

"Hi, Dad," I greeted.

"Hey, Nan, how're you?"

I contemplated relaying the day's adventures to him, but decided against it. I was quite aware of my father's overprotective side; he hated hearing about my dating escapades. It had taken ages to convince him that Ned was a good guy, and after Ned's death he was increasingly conservative about my dating life. He was probably the only person in my life who encouraged my withdrawal from romance.

After a short conversation about my grades, the semester calendar, and my recent trip to the doctor's (which had proved that I was in perfect physical condition, thereby halting my father's constant worries that all my stress was causing me ill), we said good night and I found myself once again, alone in the apartment with my thoughts. I attempted once more to fall asleep, but could not, so instead I went to the computer and surfed aimlessly for a couple of hours. Just as I was thinking about Doze Attempt No. 3, my cell phone rang with an unrecognized number. I picked up a little uncertainly. "Nancy here," I said.

"Nancy, hi!" an unfamiliar male's voice responded to my greeting.

"Uh," I said. "Who is this again?"  
"Oh, sorry. It's Ian. Ian Riggs."

An uncertain feeling settled in my stomach. Was I angry at him? Amused? Betrayed? I settled on an icy, uninvolved manner. "What do you need?"

"Well, see, I had a super-great time at our last date. I'm really glad that we got set up, and-"

Boy, he was stupid. He was the stupidest guy I'd ever dated, probably. Did he really expect that I hadn't already discovered his bluff? I was about to say something completely rude – and verbally recreate the pain that I had cast upon him using Marty so many years ago – but then I just decided to hang up. He was an unimportant factor in the story of my life, sent only to torture me on my stood-up blind date.

In short, I was blowing Ian Riggs off.

We all make bad choices sometimes…


	4. Move is Contemplated

_**RESPONSE: whennerdscollide, I tried to follow your suggestion of deleting the A/N in Chapter 1, but for some reason it won't let me get rid of it. Sorry. **__****__**. And also, I do play the Nancy Drew PC games and I love them! .**_

_**Disclaimer: I still don't own Nancy Drew. I'll get there someday…**_

_**Thanks once again for all the positive (and negative) feedback. Everyone's opinion is appreciated and considered, so feel free to tell me how you feel about anything! Thx **_

"Nancy, I've apologized at least fifteen times for lying to you, but you really seemed like you were having fun too, and I'm positive that you aren't completely averse to the idea of seeing me again. So call me back, okay? I KNOW that under different circumstances, you would've called me back on my first message, so try to look past my teensy-weensy white lie. And I hope you're not screening my calls. K, talk to you later."

I groaned as my voicemail machine clicked off. Ian had not let up on calling me since I'd hung up on him. Obviously, he was now aware that _I _was aware that he'd lied to me and used my blindness to his advantage, and instead of pretending that nothing was wrong, he had resorted to evermore-irritating apologies, which dragged along using flowery and hollow language. He was constantly using little catchphrases like, "We can get past this, Nancy, and I can be better for you" or "I can not ever tell you how apologetic I am and how much I wish I could tell you all this face-to-face". I, obviously, would have had no desire to see him again whether or not he'd deceived me, and I was seriously starting to think about changing my phone number.

All that, however, was far from my mind as I deleted what had to have been his twentieth message and caught a last glimpse of my reflection in a teakettle. I was just heading out to my date no. 2, and for some reason, I was exceedingly nervous. Perhaps it was just the fact that once again, I had no idea what was coming, or maybe part of me was contemplating being left high and dry again. Whatever the reason was, I couldn't shake my butterflies as I headed down to the apartment lobby and waited for my ride to arrive. According to Bess, the mystery man would be in the car with her when she came to pick me up, so I could assume that in a matter of minutes, the whole thing would be sorted out and the element of mystery would – thankfully – evaporate.

After doing a quick makeup check and pulling my dress down so that it fit perfectly, I rushed down the stairs and stood impatiently outside the complex. Fortunately, Bess didn't keep me waiting for very long; only a couple minutes after I arrived downstairs, her tiny little pink car pulled up. Because of the tinted windows, I couldn't see inside, and my skin started crawling with anticipation to finally meet my elusive blind date.

"Get in," Bess called out, rolling down the driver's side window. I strained my neck, trying to peer into the passenger seat. Bess raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Are you really that eager to see who it is?" she teased.

"Shut up." I opened the door to the backseat, slid in, and finally turned to look at who was sitting next to her.

The passenger seat was empty.

A low, dangerous growl escaped my throat. "Bess, where's my date?" I demanded. "If you keep me waiting much longer, I might have to kill you."

"Sheesh, cool your jets. He had some personal obligations to fulfill, so he's meeting us at the restaurant."

"This guy doesn't seem very reliable," I said skeptically. "What if he doesn't meet us at Reggiano's? What then?"

"Then we have a nice girls out night, and I stop pestering you about doing this, okay? If he misses twice, it's a definite no-no, but I'm sure that he'll make it. He's really excited, Nance. So try to be nice." Bess peered around and looked at me with no-nonsense eyes.

"Jeez, okay." I looked away. "I won't be awful, I swear. I mean, to tell you the truth, just because of all this building-up, I'm pretty eager to meet him."

"That's good. Eagerness is always a plus." Bess revved the engine and we sped away. The entire time we were driving, my mind didn't stray once from the thought of the date. Until then, I had had no expectations and no desires about what the date would entail, but at that moment – when I had finally admitted a little bit of interest in the date – I realized exactly who I was sort of expecting. And if Bess really had arranged for my evening to be spent with the man I was thinking of, I wasn't sure if I was irate… or ecstatic.


	5. Move Progresses

_**I AM SO SORRY THAT THIS HAS TAKEN SO LONG.**_

_**The A/N from Chapter One has been removed.**_

_**I have been so busy at boarding school, and Internet is hard to come by here, so after spring break things got pretty crazy and I stopped updating. But it's finally here! Once again, I am so sorry, and I hope that you all forgive me and haven't lost interest in this fic!**_

_**Disclaimer: DODS… same old, same old. **_

"Bess…" to my own ears, my voice was pathetically whiny, but I couldn't help it. We had been sitting in a traffic jam for nearly an hour and a half, and seven o'clock was drawing dangerously near. My cell phone warned me in glaringly green letters that it was already 6:43, and we weren't even halfway there. The freeway was completely congested, due to some sort of accident, according to the radio traffic report. The cars inched along at a maddeningly slow pace as the day faded outside.

I couldn't help my impatience, and I was seriously starting to drive Bess nuts. Every time I opened my mouth to make a complaint, she would honk the horn to warn me. Unfortunately, this method of Nancy-control, while effective, caused the other cars around us to honk just as crankily, because they believed she was honking at _them. _This led to a bigger headache, a worse situation, and more of my incessant griping.

This was probably the hundredth time I had said her name in the same beseeching tone, as if I expected her to do something and magically clear the jam as if she were Moses parting the Red Sea. She turned around and gave me a look that suggested there was only one thing she wanted to do at that moment: tear me apart. "Nancy," she said, in a voice that struggled and failed to remain serene. "If you'd really like, I can toss you out the window and you can _walk _to Reggiano's."

I shut up.

As we continued, the traffic began to ease, and I started to relax. When I had gone fifteen minutes without grumbling, Bess turned around again and smiled gratefully. "Thank goodness. I was about to have a coronary."  
I returned a mocking smile, but I was glad that there was hope. By seven, we had already reached a smooth-flowing area of downtown. We reached the restaurant at 7:15 exactly.

Once outside the car, I welcomed the fresh air and thanked Bess with a tiny but genuine grin. She returned the favor as we headed inside, spoke with the maitre d', and finally headed to our table. As we wove through the tables, dodging past waiters balancing trays and customers getting seated, my heart began pounding like crazy. The ambience of the restaurant was soothing, but I couldn't calm myself. I was about to see him… and maybe it was really _him._

I saw the eyes first. I always saw the eyes first. Those pools of open love, like a warm hug on the surface that led through to a passionate kiss. I saw a roaring fireplace and bottles of chilled wine and chocolate-covered strawberries in those eyes. I had looked into them a million times, but this time was so different. I looked into them after starving for them so long, and I was plunged into a dream-like state. It was a memory, but it was one of the most powerful memories that I could still look back on.

I saw Frank – the younger, high-school Frank, who was a little immature, and had a very awkward stance. He slouched over, hands in his pockets, as he looked at me. We were sitting outside the local drugstore on one of the crummy benches, after a late-night run for chips and soda after working all day on a particularly pressing case involving a jewelry store theft. I was gorging myself – that was the great thing, I never worried about my image around Frank – and he was just kind of staring at me, waiting for me. I finally noticed him staring. "Aren't you going to eat?" I asked, eyeing the bag of chips in his hands greedily.

He shrugged and handed it over. Just as I was about to continue stuffing my face, he blurted out, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." With as much junk food as my mouth could hold in my hands, I was happy to answer anything.

"Why are you with him?"

This jolted me out of my crap-reverie. I looked at him, and he saw my shock and hurt, and withdrew. "Sorry." His voice was full of shame. "I – I'm sorry, Nance. I just… I don't know what came over me…"

I raised an eyebrow. I was now upset, so upset that I couldn't even concentrate on the pile of fatty goodness that was waiting in my lap. "Frank, do we have to do this?"

He shrugged, folding his hands nervously. "Nancy, look at me. I'm festering just to save myself for you. There's a bunch of girls at school who are really cool. And..."

"You should go out with one," I said plainly. "Ned and I… we're in love, Frank." Too late, I saw how those words affected him. He looked away, blinking very rapidly, and stared into his whitening knuckles. "Sorry." I felt a huge amount of remorse, and tried to comfort him with a sack of Donettes. He pushed it away with startling aggression.

"Frank," I pleaded. "Let's not ruin it. Today's been fun. A good day, a nice case-cracking breakthrough day! Let's just have fun. Come on, let's eat junk and talk about random things."

"I love you, Nancy." He was crying. Honest-to-god crying and I had never seen a boy cry before, ever, not even my baby cousins. It was such unfamiliar territory that I physically jumped back. He mistook my surprise at his emotion for repulsion at his words, and stood up, quivering from head to toe. "Never mind – I'm so sorry… so sorry…" he scanned his surroundings wildly, searching for escape. "Um, I have to go, I have to go." He was hyperventilating… and then he spun around and started running away. Just as he was about to push through some shrubbery to the sidewalk, he tossed his car keys in my direction. I caught them automatically. "Frank?" I shouted. "Wait, Frank!"

"Drive yourself home." He was gone.

The next few days had been so awkward. My heart ached just to think of it, the way I avoided him as much as possible, the way we communicated through Joe – sweet, unaware Joe, who kept asking me why I didn't just tell Frank myself, and received "Just go tell him" as an answer. Over time, even Joe got tired of being treated like that, and I grew distant with him as well. Ned never questioned the way my once thick-as-thieves relationship with the Hardy boys became distant and existed only through email. Sometimes I wondered if he was glad. He knew that Frank posed a considerable threat to our relationship, and while he was good friends with Joe, he seemed to think it safer if certain ties were cut.

But suddenly, in living, breathing color, Frank Hardy was back in my life, as if he'd never disappeared. He was wearing the same old smile, soft like cashmere and beautiful like the sunset (as I had described it in one of my cheesy high school poems). A jacket was slung over one shoulder. He had actually combed, parted, and gelled his hair and he was dressed incredibly nicely; in a crisp shirt and nice slacks. His shoes were shockingly shiny and well-formed. This new Frank looked like he belonged in some sort of metropolitan area, not a small Italian restaurant located in an unknown suburb of Chicago.

I pulled myself out of his eyes and turned to look at Bess, who was smiling smugly; clearly giving herself a pat on the back for a job well done. I kicked her shin.

"Ouch." She returned the act of violence. "Go say hi. I'm just going to get a singles table."

I could tell that Bess was very dedicated to this venture, because otherwise she would never consent to being seen at a singles table in public. She always had to be with a girlfriend or a cute guy – it was, apparently, inherent to maintaining her social image.

Very nervously, I approached the table where Frank was sitting. His eyes never left mine as I walked. Only once, I broke contact, to look back at Bess, who was very contently sitting at a candlelit, circular table that didn't even look big enough to fit a soup tureen.

I reached him. My palms were clammy, and for some reason I felt like my organs were about to break out of my skin and start dancing around me and laughing at my stupidity.

"Nancy." He stood up when I came. His eyes danced with either mirth or mockery; I couldn't tell which. The same slightly sarcastic aura that I remembered lingered in the air between us, but instead of enticing me as it used to, it frightened me. I was afraid that he was about to pay me back for the bitter blatancy with which I had broken his heart when we were only children.

But instead of taunting me, or making a sardonic remark, he pulled out my chair and helped me out of my coat. I felt myself flush at his chivalry, and snuck another look at Bess. She was giggling – very immaturely, I might add – behind the menu. She caught my eye and smiled toothily. I made a face and turned my attention back to Frank.

He was just scooting in his chair across from me. When he was comfortably positioned, he folded his hands and gazed at me placidly. Clearly, I would have to break the ice.

"How've you been?" it was a lame opener, but the best I could come up with. My mind was bedazzled by the strong lines of his jaw and the just-beginning creases near his eyes, which suggested a lot of laughter, and increased wisdom. He seemed happier; he had definitely grown from the slightly brooding and very withdrawn adolescent Frank.

"I've been doing very well." He thumbed the tablecloth.

"Um… anything interesting happen?"

"I'm not seeing anyone." All these years later, he could still understand my language. He knew that I wouldn't really care to hear anything 'interesting' if it pertained to, say, his recent wedding. I was really only making sure that he was single. To prove his point further in a subtle way, he moved his left hand across the table so I could see that his ring finger was naked. "What about you?" he seemed amused to catch me off-guard. It had been very long since someone had so bluntly uncovered my verbal plays.

"Me neither." I was relieved.

"Bess told Joe and me about Ned. I'm so, so sorry. It sounds horrible and heartrending… I can't even imagine." He reached over and took my hand. The gesture was so genuine and friendly that I almost started crying. Resisting the urge, I forced a smile/grimace.

"I'm really fine. Recovery is long and slow, but I'm getting there. I'm the turtle racing the hare, but I'll catch up eventually." My hand was still resting in his. His palm was warm and soft. I wished my entire body could curl up beneath the shelter of his fingers, and stay there forever, protected and happy and loved.

"He was a very good friend," Frank noted. "Especially to Joe – I couldn't believe that no one told us about it right after the accident. Bess seemed shocked, too, that we weren't aware. But then I figured… maybe all things considered, it was better that I hadn't known too long. If I had known then, I would've gradually lost courage, and tonight wouldn't have been possible."

"What do you mean?" I was a little confused.

"Well, if I had known for so long that Ned had… left you, I would only be able to think about how stricken you must be. I imagined that you might be turning into a madwoman with all the sorrow. I was so afraid that I would come here and see you changed, broken, like half of yourself. And I'm so glad, Nancy… that you're as beautiful as you were, and that you didn't lose yourself in this. But still, seeing you without him is like being shot. It hurts that you-"

"Without him?" I interjected. "You've seen me without him a million times. In fact, you were hardly ever with us when we were together. It was always me and you and Joe, or you and Joe and Ned, or just you and I with Ned and Joe doing their own thing – and you never pointed out the difference then." I didn't mean to give him a hard time, but I came out sounding a little accusatory.

Clearly, he was struggling for the right words to explain himself. "Ok, here's the thing. When you see someone who is loved and loves, then they're just like a totally different personality; almost a totally different species, than people who are just sort of living without romance, you know? It's like when we were back in high school. Whenever you and I would go out, I noticed people sort of staring. I looked so different from you. My clothes were baggy, I was tired, and I didn't take care of my appearance… I basically had no one to impress, and people could totally tell. But you were always pretty and fresh, and you smiled, and you were so darn _happy. _Sometimes, I could smell Ned on you. Not like in the sense of physical scent. But I smelled his love and caring on you, and when I touched you, I felt his skin on yours, and I could feel that he'd been holding you before I was. It was so disconcerting, but I was glad, at the same time, that you were so at peace. Now you're stale. Not in a bad way. In the way where I can tell that you haven't wanted anyone in a long time. You have no desire."

This speech was so impassioned and deep that I was left speechless. I made a few stuttering sounds, and he laughed. "I'm so sorry. That was probably spoken too soon. Let's move on to more lighthearted subjects, eh?"

Our salads arrived, saving me from consenting. I dug into the dressing-soaked iceberg lettuce with more vigor than I usually did. He picked at the leaves, clearly disinterested. "Eat your vegetables," I scolded.

Grinning in submission, he nudged a piece of shredded Monterey jack onto his fork tines and pretended to savor it like it was France's finest Brie.

"Shut up." I polished off the salad, and then wracked my brain for questions to ask. I finally came up with one: "Hey, where are you going to school?"

He looked up, halfway through chewing a piece of roll. "Oh," he said, swallowing. "I'm a freshman at the AIC."

"Oh. Art Institute of Chicago, huh?" I was surprised. He had never been a really artistic person.

"No, the other AIC – Amperblane International at Clarenfeld," he corrected.

That made much more sense. Amperblane was a school founded by one of the area's most famous PI's, David Amperblane. About fifty years ago, he had nabbed a vicious sniper that was terrorizing Clarenfeld County. As a result, they allowed him to build a university in their county, which also welcomed international students and had a commended ESL program and language courses. The university was a pretty big deal because it was turning out top-notch detectives who were not only highly observant and skilled, but could handle international deployment, which was of great use to the US government. Frank seemed like a perfect student for such a school.

"I'm happy for you," I said honestly.

"Thanks." He seemed surprised but grateful at my nicety.

A waiter arrived. We ordered entrees, and agreed to split a sundae for dessert. After the waiter left to fetch Frank's filet mignon and my ravioli, we got back to our discussion.

"Did Bess tell you how sorry I was about missing our date at the Shop?" he asked.

"Oh, don't worry about it," I said, feigning airy dismissal. I was about to change the subject and avoid potentially awkward apologies when something connected. "Wait a second. Bess told me that you got in a car accident with your brother… Joe! Is he all right?"

Frank snickered. "That certainly took a while. He's fine. Just broke both of his legs, a couple ribs… and his left arm. But other than that-"

"Oh my gosh!" I exclaimed, practically jumping out of my seat in panic. "Where is he? I should go see him! I feel horrible!"

He laughed. "I'm kidding, Nance. He was fine. It was a very minor accident involving a slippery curb and Joe's – um – _unorthodox _driving methods, which include forgetting to turn on your blinker. In any case, we're both fit as a fiddle, completely uninjured. But he'll be glad to know that you're so concerned."

Feeling a little embarrassed, I sat back down and glared at Frank. "You really oughtn't joke about things like that."

"Hey, it's me. I joke about everything and anything." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. "Jeez, you've gotten real serious, Nan."

"Tragedy does that to a person," I shot back, and then regretted my tartness. He seemed truly horrified at my words, and I saw his eyes flooding with liquid apologies.

"I didn't mean to offend you," he said.

I reached over the table and patted his knee. "Just a joke." But we both knew that it was anything but.

After that incident, the mood changed a little. He was definitely more careful about any references to Ned. I was made more comfortable by this security, but I also felt bad for making him so self-conscious. However, we still managed to hold a pleasant conversation full of humorous banter before our entrees arrived.

When the date switched to the mainly-eating, sparse-talking portion, I looked over at Bess again. Unsurprisingly, she had caught the eye of a man already. Some stranger was sitting across from her, and from the way she was laughing and flirting, I was pretty sure that she'd completely forgotten that she was supposed to be overseeing _my _date.

He cleared the filet mignon with typical Frank fast-eating skill, and he watched me as I polished off the ravioli with dainty swallows and mouth-pats. When both our plates were clear, the waiter promised to bring out dessert. Completely satisfied, I looked at him and smiled. The smile was truthful and happy. I was certainly glad that I had him back in my life. Things were not the same without the Hardy boys.

"I miss you," he murmured as he drank a little ice water. "All this time, ever since that one day during sophomore year outside the convenience store…" we both looked down, trying and failing not to remember.

"I missed you too." I made a point of adding the past tense. I was telling him that our separation was no longer existent. We were back together. Friends again, and maybe more (even though if I actually did start dating Frank, Bess would in all likelihood drive me insane); but whatever we were, we had reentered each others' lives. He looked up when I said that, and returned the smile. He seemed so grateful to be accepted back into my world, and I was grateful to have him. We simply stared at each other, radiating happiness, communicating silently, until words came crawling back into my mouth.

"Do you want to take a walk?"

It was completely random, but it seemed to please him. Evening walks in downtown were exactly the kind of thing we'd done in high school. But his pleased expression quickly faded to doubt. He jabbed a thumb in the direction of Bess and her mystery man.

I shrugged in reply. "She won't notice."

The waiter came with our sundae, which we ate as quickly as possible. Then the check was filled, a tip was left, and we headed out of the restaurant without even stirring Bess.

Outside, the air was cool and crisp and extremely refreshing. It felt good to have it blow the hair off my neck and face as we walked in the direction of the river. The restaurant had been a little stuffy, and my skin cooled nicely as we strolled along. We had no real destination, and no real desire to make conversation. We were just there.

Without even thinking, I reached for his hand and slipped my fingers through his. He responded in kind, massaging my wrist with his thumb. "How's Joe?" I asked sort of pointlessly. We were reaching the pier, and I didn't like to think of standing on the pier in silence. This was because the pier was always the place that Frank and I went to talk; if we were in an argument, it was the place of resolution; if we were bored, it was a place to sit and be inspired into conversation, and if we were just there, as we were now, it was a place to go to be there and chat.

"Well, he's doing well. He's a freshman at Pinkerton."

Pinkerton was a very small but decent college that was pretty close to NIU. It had an excellent journalism program, which seemed right up Joe's alley. For a while towards the end of high school, he had been seriously considering journalism as a better career option than private investigation.

"I miss him, too." We had reached the pier. Just like the old days, we both nimbly hoped the waist-high fence and walked along the narrow strip of wooden boards, balancing carefully so that we could still walk next to each other without pushing one another off. There was no protection on the side of the pier, just a couple of crooked wooden sticks that you were supposed to hold onto if you fell. However, these sticks were very sparingly placed, spread wide apart, and generally people tended to fall off in a place that was nowhere near a stick.

"But not as much as you missed me," Frank teased. We reached the gated end. I sat down carefully, leaning against one of the supports for the gate. He propped himself up against a DANGER OF DROWNING diamond-shaped sign post.

I looked up at him. "No," I agreed. "Not as much as I missed you."

Frank cleared his throat awkwardly at this. "Well, Joe sure misses you, too. He'll be glad to get back in touch. Oh, and you absolutely have to meet his new girlfriend."

"Why? Is she nice?"

Frank laughed. "She's a force of nature. Her name's Pasha and she's from some European country. She speaks with this strange accent, but for some reason Joe's obsessed with her – our friends are betting that she performed some weird European witchcraft on him and now he's enchanted. Whatever the case, she's pretty ugly – sort of heavyset."

I smacked his knee to punish him for the last derogatory comment. "Don't talk about girls like that, Frank. It's mean and ungentlemanly."

"You're mean and ungentlemanly." He kicked at me playfully.

It was one of those things where it was hard to understand what was happening. One second I was sitting with my chin on my knees and my arms hugging my shins comfortably on the pier, and the next, Frank's supporting foot had slipped a little, which gave his kick a little extra force. And then I toppled over and was sinking into pure ice.

OK, it wasn't pure ice – it was just exceptionally cold water. When I resurfaced, though, I felt like I had just plunged into the Arctic Ocean. My clothes stuck to my frozen skin, and my teeth chattered unstoppably. Dimly, past the clatter of my molars and the frenetic splashing of my arms, I heard Frank shouting at the top of his lungs.

"NANCE!" he roared. He was standing at the edge of the pier, waving his arms doggy-paddle style. "SWIM TO THE PIER, NANCE!" he exclaimed.

I sputtered and tried to follow his instructions, but my limbs were so stiff from the cold that it was hard to move at all. I felt like a rock, thrown into water and expected to sink; because that was exactly what I was doing. Slowly, as my splashing lost its vigor, I was getting lower and lower, so that my nose was almost inhaling water with each gasp. I kept my mouth firmly closed, my lips sealed against any water intake, but that made it more difficult to collect myself because I didn't even have the freedom to scream for help. While this would not have actually aided my swimming, it would've at least helped me get a little more active. Hearing your own voice screaming is a great way to panic.

I finally managed to get within grasping distance of the pier. My fingers scrabbled over the boards, groping for something to really cling on to. The water splashed over me, getting in my eyes and mouth, and I coughed violently, trying to escape the never-ending torrent of –

"Gotcha!" Frank triumphantly hoisted me from the water. I was soaking and shivering. The chilly breeze which had only recently made me feel refreshed was now making me feel like a human icicle. Quickly, Frank removed his heavy jacket and was preparing to drape it over my shoulders when he paused. "It'd be better to take off your wet clothes," he decided. Very matter-of-factly, he draped the jacket over the warning sign and helped me out of my drenched blouse and undershirt. Only when he had wrung these items out and slung them over his arm did he realize that I was standing practically half-naked very close to him. The situation was so intensely uncomfortable that I turned away, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I just thought it'd be warmer."

"It's fine, I understand." I wasn't angry, just embarrassed to be caught so vulnerable only on our first night of reunion.

"Um, take my jacket." I gratefully accepted the dry warmth, and even though it was too big and the neckline of the jacket plunged nearly to my belly button, it helped a lot.

"Thanks." I wrapped myself in the insulated fabric and turned back around to face him. We stared at each other for a few minutes, both of us very uncertain. I wondered if he was going to kiss me; he certainly looked like it. The moonlight was shining bright in his eyes, reflecting an uncontrollable amount of desire…

I couldn't help it. Maybe my uncertainty, or nervousness, or fear, did the trick, but somehow I just started laughing hysterically. I doubled over as a bewildered Frank watched, and laughed – howled, actually – into the empty night. I clung onto his too-large jacket and managed to find everything hilarious. The fact that I was standing in nothing but a bra and jacket in front of my ex-almost-boyfriend was too much to bear. I laughed and laughed until I was crying and my throat was dry, and there was no more laugh inside of me. And then I simply collapsed onto the pier. Frank looked at me, contemplating, and he started laughing too. He laughed even longer, louder, and harder than I had, and when he was equally exhausted, he fell down right next to me. We lay on the narrow pier and gazed into each other's teary eyes.

Countless minutes passed on the pier. Somehow, we managed to reposition ourselves in our hazy subconscious state, so that his arm was comfortably draped over my shoulders, and I was snuggled into the crook of his shoulder. We had never been so close physically, but I somehow felt as if I'd lain with him like this many times before. It was, as Bess had once described it, completely familiar.

"Nan?" he asked me after a very long time.

"Mmm?" I murmured happily into his cologne-scented neck.

"You awake?"

"Mmm." I put an arm around his waist. If I hadn't been drunken on laughter and saltwater, I probably would never have done something so romantic so soon, but my stupor was compelling me to do outrageously out-of-character things.

"Nan, I lied to you. My accident with Joe wasn't about a slippery curb and Joe's unorthodox driving habits."

"OK. What was it about?"

"I was rushing. I was late to see you and I was so excited, and I couldn't bear it, so I rushed. And Joe was driving innocently to the hardware store, as normal and correct as any American driver. I just bombarded through the intersection, not even paying attention to the color of the lights. Stupidest mistake of my life – I wasn't even late to the date, I completely missed it."

"It's okay." The hand that was draped over his waist patted his back absently.

"It was funny, though. I climbed out of the car all disheveled from ramming into his car full-on, and I started cussing out the driver. I said some pretty bad things along the lines of 'You bastard, you watch where you're going, you dumb bleep! Who's your mother? She must've done a real bad job of raising you if she created such a bleeping bleep!' and then my brother climbs out of the car!"

I laughed against his skin.

"Well, he was pretty insulted, but we both managed to chuckle over it afterwards. And I had to admit it was completely my fault…"

I patted his back again. "It's hard to resist having a date with someone like me, huh? Sometimes you have to take extra measures."

He kissed the top of my head. "That's for sure."

Those three words were no "I love you", but I found them deeply comforting and highly touching. I scooted closer to him, the heady smell of him seeping through my nostrils. I enjoyed the sensation of us touching, and cast one last happy look at the moonlight before I fell asleep on a pier with a man I had not seen for nearly three years.

_**This seemed like a pretty highly anticipated chapter, so I hope I didn't disappoint anyone. Please read and review, thanks for the reviews so far, and once again, I am SO sorry for keeping you all waiting for so long! I promise that the next updates will not take so long to appear.**_

_**Have a great weekend everyone! D**_


	6. Moving Sentiment

_**Here it is! **_

_**This may seem redundant, but I want to thank everyone for reading and reviewing anyway! **_

_**Please keep it coming, getting everyone's advice is really helpful, and don't forget that if you have any requests, go ahead and make them!! **_

_**Disclaimer: I still don't own Nancy Drew. This phrase is about as implied as "Homework is boring" and "School sucks". **_

_I'm back on the trampoline, but there's no Ned… there's only a black space. And now I'm traveling downwards… but there's no net to bounce me back up… where am I going to go? The black hole leads nowhere._

_I've fallen right through. Painlessly, easily, as if I'm floating… maybe I am. There's Frank. What's he doing here? Hi, Frank. Frank! Where are you going, Frank? Bess is dressed like a candy cane – no surprises there – and her mystery romancer is dressed like a Hershey's kiss. They make a cute couple. Joe! Joe, I haven't seen you in ages! How are you doing? I see you married George. Very good choice! Hannah and Dad, are you guys together too? Whoa, this black hole thing is pretty weird, huh? But not nearly as weird as my nanny and dad getting together!! Ha, ha, ha…._

"AHH!" waking from what was probably the strangest dream I had ever experienced, I sat straight up and looked directly into the same eyes that had swallowed me less than twenty-four hours ago. Frank Hardy was still there. He was real, not a dream. Thank goodness…

"Frank!" I reached for him, afraid that if I didn't hold on he would fade like a wisp of smoke. He smiled obligingly and climbed onto the bed next to me and into my arms. I clung tightly, squeezing as hard as I could to make sure that he wasn't about to explode in my face. He didn't.

"Hi." His voice was a little hoarse. Slowly, the memory of him screaming my name out on the pier returned, and I laughed a little. He laughed too and kissed my forehead. "You seem so happy," he whispered.

"I guess I do, huh? Don't worry, it doesn't have anything to do with you," I teased, stroking the coarse material of his jacket. I was surprised that I was still wearing it, but also glad.

"Oh, gee, I wouldn't want to make the most beautiful girl in the world feel happy," he replied.

I couldn't tease him anymore after that comment. I stayed quiet, resting against him. He really did make me happy, but at the same time, it brought a lot of nostalgia. It was impossible to get rid of the image of Ned every time I looked at Frank. It was because they were both men I loved, but I had chosen one over the other, and changing my mind felt impossibly and ridiculously cruel.

He noticed. He saw in my eyes the pain that not even his perfection could ease, but thankfully he didn't say anything. If he had accused me of clinging onto Ned, or ranted at me like Aunt Sallie, I doubted I could've handled it. He was my last shelter – like the Masada fort in the Great Revolt; except without the mass suicide. I felt horrible because he was treating me so well, even though he knew that I was thinking about someone else. It was the ultimate act of selfishness – to know that you were hurting someone, and not care because hurting them made you feel beautiful.

I was drifting off back to sleep when someone intensely rapping on the door startled us both to full alert. He jumped immediately out of the bed almost reflexively, and attempted in vain to straighten his wrinkled shirt and fix his mussed hair. We both looked pretty indecent when I went to open the door. I didn't even realize that the jacket was hanging open, revealing what I wasn't wearing, until the door was open and I was staring directly at Aunt Sallie.

Her eyes were wide with shock as she took in my disheveled state. My expression must've mirrored hers, because she said in a slightly "duh"-esque tone, "I left a message that I was coming to visit today."

I had neglected my daily voicemail-checking-in-the-morning routine. Somehow, Aunt Sallie always managed to make me feel bad for the slightest of errs, which was partly why I loved her so much. This morning, however, she was the last person I wanted to see. In fact, I didn't want to see anyone besides Frank.

"Um, I didn't check…" I averted my eyes to the wall directly behind her. She raised a doubtful eyebrow.

"Why wouldn't you check?" she was assuming her standard threatening pose – a hip cocked, eyebrow raised, and arms crossed.

"I was busy." I cursed mentally when I heard Frank trip over something and emit a muffled grunt.

Her look of disapproval immediately switched to curiosity. "Is someone in there?" she demanded, standing on tiptoe and peering over my shoulder. "Nancy Drew! Is there a _guy _in there?"

I shook my head vigorously. "No! No! That's the television."

"You don't watch television, Nancy," she countered. "And you're a horrible actress. Who is it?"

Several possibilities ran through my head. I could continue lying, but Aunt Sallie knew me better than that and would be able to rat me out. I could tell the truth, but then she would be unbearably smug and totally invade our moment. Or –

"It's an old friend," I whispered. As long as I was telling something that was partially true, I could maintain a pretty straight face. "He's… um… sort of having some problems right now. He's really intelligent, but kind of messed up." This was pushing it. I coughed to hide my smile.

"Oh," she whispered back. She believed me!

"Sorry, I don't think this is a good time to meet him. And don't tell Hannah, please!" I added. "Or anyone. I could get in big trouble for letting him camp out here, but you know… I felt so bad…"  
She smiled and patted my shoulder. "You're still a good person, Nancy; you're just a little confused."

_I'm not confused and you wouldn't say so if you ACTUALLY knew who's behind this door! _I thought, but smiled thinly. "See you later, Aunt Sallie."

I closed the door as carefully as I could, and then started jumping around pumping the air with my fists. Success was almost as sweet as being alone with Frank.

"Frank, I got rid of her! Frank?" I turned to look at him and saw him standing looking a little bewildered in the middle of my apartment. He was holding something brown and square – probably what he'd tripped over.

My heart dropped to my stomach when I managed to identify the object. It was a tiny scrapbook, which I had been working on since Ned's death. It was entirely in memory of Ned, with little things like cards and movie tickets that made me remember him, and a whole bunch of photographs. I didn't think that Frank would be upset about me remembering my late lover; I was only worried because there was a page remembering all the men that I'd chosen Ned over. I was pretty sure that I'd included Frank's photograph with caricature-like additions.

"It's okay." He cast it aside as dismissively as if it was a piece of trash, before I could even get an apology out.

"I'm sorry," I said anyway. It was backwards, but I figured it was still a good thing, to apologize. I could see how deeply it affected him to see just how much I had pined for Ned.

He ran a finger along the leather binding. "Bess didn't say," he said cautiously. "How did he die?"

I swallowed. I had always been afraid that I was going to have to answer this question. I'd been lucky so far – in an entire year, nobody had dared to ask me how he'd died. Now, however, I was put in a situation where I couldn't say no. Frank had just graciously forgiven me for openly teasing him and adding insult to injury over his rejection. I was not in the position to deny him any answers.

"He was visiting his mother." I heard my voice crack and tried to focus on something else, something happy, so that I wouldn't cry in front of Frank.

"It was really rainy. I told him not to go because I was scared, there'd been a lot of accidents already, all over the news… a huge buildup… but he said she was really sick, so he wanted to go see her. I couldn't tell him not to go take care of his mother, so he left. And it was a big accident… he went skidding all over the place, and it was so horrible. His mother called me and she asked me where he was. I was so concerned. I started like freaking out so I called him… and then eventually the hospital called me. He was on life support for about a week when we decided it was better to let him go. Seeing him like that… was more painful than watching him die…"

I failed my mission to remain stoic. I completely collapsed, shaking with all-too-familiar sobs. I had cried many times over Ned, with this much passion and more, but crying about him to Frank seemed infinitely more meaningful. He sort of watched me as I knelt on the floor and cried, and then he managed to fit his arms all the way around me and lift me into his lap. We sat there, losing perception of time as we had lost it on the pier, and when I was dry and calm, we sat a little more, pretending that there was a point to our silence.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I sniffled.

After a while, I decided to get up. I was lucky that Thursday classes started late; otherwise I would've already missed two or three. It was 10:20 when Frank left. It was pretty painful to say goodbye, but at the same time it was good to get away from each other so we could clear our heads. Our restored romance was as sudden and startling as a freak hurricane, only instead of destructing everything, it was rebuilding us.

School was unbearably boring. I spent all of my classes looking out the window, not hearing a single word that any of my teachers were saying. Right after classes, I went back to my apartment and took a too-long, too-hot shower. I toweled off, took a drink of water, and walked out of the bathroom right into – Bess.

"Hey," she greeted chirpily, as if it was not unusual at all that she had somehow managed to find her way into my apartment without my knowledge.

"Um, hi?" my voice came out annoyingly uptalking, but I was a little nervous about how Bess would react to the whole Frank thing. She would either be truly and blissfully happy for me, or she would be unbearably smug.

"So, how was Frank?" the frenetic way in which she was bouncing from her heels to her toes betrayed the sense of casualness that she was clearly trying to achieve.

"Frank was good." I decided not to say anything else. I would not tell her that I'd woken up in his arms, just as I used to wake up in Ned's. I would not tell her that we had slept on a pier together after I'd almost drowned, that we'd talked for ages, that he'd discovered a burn book that concerned him and still had forgiven me, and that I'd cried with him about another man and he had held me anyway. I would say nothing of it.

I was just about to permanently emboss this vow into my head when she let out the loudest, shrillest scream that I had ever heard. She grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me so hard that I thought my brain must be jiggling around my skull. She jumped on top of my bed and danced around in her socks. When she was finally, finally out of breath, she collapsed on the floor and looked up at me expectantly. I clutched my ringing ears and stared at her like she was a madwoman. Which, in a sense, she was.

"Well?" she was back up on her feet this time, but luckily her lungs didn't seem to have anymore scream in them. A little hoarsely, she started chanting, "Nancy has to tell me, Nancy has to tell me" in an annoyingly singsong voice until I, indeed, had to tell her.

We fell into the astonishingly comfortable armchairs that I had purchased at a fifty-dollar or less furniture thrift store, I still in my towel and her in standard cute Bess clothes.

"So how _was _he?" she pried, unable to keep down her impatience, "please, Nancy, tell me!"

And I did. It took me about fifteen minutes to get through the whole thing, partly because Bess kept interrupting with comments or questions ("OMG!" or "Was it, like, the movies?") and partly because I raked over every single detail. The recap was nearly as much for my benefit as Bess's; it was amazing to recall every single nuance that had made the night and morning so perfect. When I finished at his departure, which had been a little sniffling and very painful, she jumped up and went into a silent victory dance. I watched her, caught between amusement and disapproval. I didn't want to jinx the whole thing by getting too excited and then discovering that it would all come to nothing.

"This is so beautiful! I never thought that any guy would be able to penetrate that shell you kept up, but he did it! He got through to you! Nancy, I am so happy right now I could kiss you! But I won't cuz then Frank would get mad at me cuz _Frank's your boyfriend, Frank's your boyfriend…" _

"Tell me about Mr. Mystery that you were sitting with last night when Frank and I stealthily snuck past," I said, directing the conversation back to her. As always, Bess couldn't help but gab about her latest guy. With a smile that practically stretched to her ears, she started waltzing around and naming all the desirable traits of Chuck. I hardly listened to any of them, blocking out her voice and going over the evening once again. I wondered how he'd gotten me home, and then realized that he'd probably had to carry me all the way back to his car. This was very embarrassing. I had gained a lot of comfort food weight in the past year, and I imagined him grunting and nearly falling over as he tried to hoist me up, and tottering along awkwardly, moaning with the strain, as he transported me around. It was not a good image.

"Don't you think? Nancy? Nancy!" Bess exclaimed, waving her hands in my face. "Are you listening to me at all?"

I nodded earnestly. "Chuck sounds so amazing! Tell me more!"

The good thing about Bess's boy-craze was that she needed very little temptation to start talking about them. This made it easy to concentrate on other things while she blabbed, intermittently nodding and laughing and gasping. As long as you fell on the right note, she hardly noticed if you were really listening or not.

"And… it was just so great when he drove me home and he gave me this look and he said, 'I really hope that I'll see you again'…"

Bess stopped to take a breath and stepped back, searching me. "You don't look very interested, Nan. Are you sure you're okay? Anything else you'd like to talk about? Did Frank do something?"

Yes, I thought. Frank had done everything. He had completely uprooted my life in one night.

"No," I said. "Frank didn't do anything. Everything's the same as it always has been, except I gained back a friend."

"More than a friend!" she exclaimed. "You slept on a pier with him! Maybe you even kissed and you just don't remember because your brain was so clogged with water!"

I raised a single eyebrow, challenging her to further on this idea. She sank into submission, but I saw delight in her eyes. She was like a vulture – she couldn't leave anything at rest. She had to pick it all apart until there was nothing left to peck at.

"I'm sorry, Nance, but don't you understand why I'm so happy? I've been begging you for ages to even _look _at another guy without seeing Ned's face, and you finally have! It's a breakthrough! It's like mental recovery!"

The other eyebrow went up. This was threatening enough for her to remain silent for a couple of minutes.

"OK, be happy," I said, feeling a little guilty.

She smiled, and I saw with a little start that there were tears in her eyes. This touched me even more than I would've expected. She had been so happy a moment ago, but the happiness had obviously been superficial. There was real emotion beneath her gloating. She was truly happy for me, the kind of happy that resulted only from pure love. I stood up and threw my arms around her. She hugged back, but very timidly. When I drew back, I saw that she was biting her lip, restraining sobs.

"Bessie, what's wrong?" I asked. I rarely resorted to pet names except when referring to Ned, but I felt as if the endearment suited the situation.

She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and looked away. "Nothing's wrong. I'm so happy! Nancy, you don't even realize how much we've all worried for you. Sallie? She cries almost every single night about you, and Hannah, and your dad – it's all so hard! When they see you moping around at home on the weekends, looking like a piece of crap, it eats at them! And it eats at _me! _You were so beautiful and young and happy, and now you're acting like you're about to die. What if I started acting like that, Nancy? Wouldn't you be heartbroken? George doesn't even want to come home anymore and see you like that! You think she's being kept away by the distance? No! That's just an excuse she came up with to keep away!"

I could find no response. My mouth seemed to be suffering from a word-drought.

Bess continued, becoming more animated as she spoke. Before I knew it, I was sitting in the armchair again like a stunned audience while she stood in front of me and danced around, words of more and more passion spewing from her mouth. The tears were long gone. They were replaced by blazing fire, which danced towards me as she yelled.

I lost track of her words – it was all along the same line. I was selfish and stupid; look how long it had taken me to forgive life, etc., etc. Everything she said was true, but it was hard to keep listening to someone completely criticizing your personality for so long. I drifted off, protecting myself by blocking my ears. Eventually I became aware that she was crying again, standing helplessly with her hands wringing each other violently.

It was all honesty. For the first time in ages, Bess had been honest with what she thought of me. There was no sympathy in her voice as she reached for me and said my name. But there was certain love, and an offer for forgiveness and friendship. This, I realized as we sank to the floor together, was the wonderful thing about Bess Marvin. My capacity for forgiveness was so limited that she extended her already-wide capacity further, to compensate for my fault. Together we wept, and I loved her for the way she had comforted me for a year, and hated me all along.


End file.
